


Prints in the Dust

by drunkenCharm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkenCharm/pseuds/drunkenCharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica is not very fond of rules. She chooses to ignore her Alpha's words and this decision leads to an unexpected discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prints in the Dust

The forest was still damp from the previous rain shower, droplets of water falling down on her head and curling her blonde hair in a way she despised most. The ground beneath her feet was slippery and muddy, but nothing that could confuse her steady run. Not a single root could catch her and so Erica dashed through the warm fogs, her destination so close the smell of it flared up in her nostrils.

The Hale estate loomed darkly against the high moon, a silent watcher. Broken windows like hollow eyes stared down on her. Erica shuddered, half in piety of her Alpha's home and half of the adrenaline pumping through her veins, making the fine hairs on her arms stand up.

The sudden rush of joy uncurling in her chest pulled a small squeal from her throat.

Derek _forbid_ her to enter the house. He clearly told the Betas to stay away from his property, mostly because of the Argents using it for their twisted training. Yes, Erica had heard of what they did to Allison and the knowledge had only strengthened the urge to go and _see_.

It was a bit of a rebound when she found the smell of human so weakly swinging through the dust. The hunters must have abandoned their base a long time ago.

The wood sighed under her steps as she moved further into her Alpha's home. She had wondered why Derek chose to live in the underground, but regarding this gathering of mold and respirable dust his decision suddenly seemed like a traceable one.

A noise made her duck in caution. With Trojan ears she listened for a sound, anything to prefigure another living's presence.

She was rewarded with a moan, louder this time and clearly coming from above.

Silent and quick like a shadow Erica scampered upstairs, hopping over a step she knew would squeak without ever having been here before.

As she knelt in the thick dust decorating the first floor something caught her attention. A footprint, a large one, created by heavy boots. There were more, clearly leading away from her ducked position at the tip of the stairs, and next to them another trail, blurred, like something had been more or less dragged over the floor.

She followed the path, knowing her own prints might betray her to the other presence, but the wolf in her said _Stalk_.

The next thunk startled her, giving away the noise's source and in the same breath having Erica crouched down in front of a door. It was covered in gray mold, like the rest of the wall and it took all her composure not to make a face as she reached out and pushed.

The door slipped open to a slit, enough to unfold a view to her eyes which almost pulled a gasp of astonishment from her lips.

A back, a _very naked back_ , was facing her. She maybe should be, but couldn't get around to honestly be, ashamed of the fact that this back was quickly recognized as Derek Hale's. The only reason for the immediate recognition was the familiar Celtic tattoo gracing the place between visible scapulae. It's form stretched and resmoothed in a steady rhythm, just like the muscles underneath, bunching and loosening under perfect pallor skin.

It was a very nice back, as Erica conceded to herself.

What next caught her by surprise was the tang filling her nostrils, almost blinding her senses to a level she grasped the brittle door frame. It _reeked_ of lust.

The scent was so overwhelming Erica had to press a hand against her lips to prevent the needy groan from slipping out.

Her eyes darted back to the scene when a cut-off choke resounded.

Most of the picture was taken by Derek's large back, large indeed, with broad shoulders jerking while narrow hips pistoned forward into the source of all those irritating noises. Through the haze of sweat and what was pure sex Erica was able to dissect another scent. A very human scent, familiar because it clang to Derek's problem child _Scott_ like a second skin.

A memory awoke in her, the fine features of a young boy, together with the name of Stiles Stilinski.

Though his face and most parts of his body were covered Erica didn't need to see to know in what agonizing pleasure Stiles had to be, as Derek all but stapled him down on the old mattress.

Only his twitching feet with stubbornly curled toes were bared to her sight, legs wrapped around a defined werewolf waist and bouncing with the unswerving rhythm.

Large hands held pale thighs in a hard grip, revealing an angry red as soon as Derek moved his fingers from the legs to small hips. His thumbs aggressively dug into the hollow next to sharp hipbones, Erica knew, as the next whimper was one of wanton pain.

She didn't know of their carnal adventures. In fact, she didn't even know they _liked_ each other.

But it obviously didn't require much affection to wreck someone like this, going by the way Derek was indulging in the human's body.

When the tips of long fingers began to crawl over the werewolf's neck, scraping at the unblemished skin, Erica bit her lips, hard. Blood rushed under the thin skin and she felt her own heartbeat sped up in appetence.

A dark growl, coming from the depths of a strong chest, and the hand not supporting her weight against the door frame crept over her own denim-covered thigh, sneaking between her opened legs and rested as a light, but warm pressure against her crotch.

Unforeseen, the hands wandering restlessly over neck and shoulders, tightened their grip in dark, full hair, together with the legs around Derek's waist, and with the next shove they rolled around, making Erica press against the little space between frame and wall in caution.

She now had a better sight on Stiles, on his back with the soft, flushed skin and his rear side, swallowing Derek's cock slick with lube and sweat.

Her blood went south in a rush when Derek _whimpered_ , arching up into the smaller body to get impossibly closer to what must be welcoming human warmth.

Stiles was teasing him, riding him with taunting ease, moving his small hips in a smooth circle, until the rest of Derek slipped inside.

The hands were back, taking a hold in an almost possessive way of Stiles' pelvis and Erica saw slightly elongated nails scrape at the smooth skin there. They moaned, all three of them, her own noises literally bitten back with teeth holding her bottom lip in an unforgiving lock.

They began to move, frantic, almost desperate, rocking and thrusting like none of them could endure the thought of losing vicinity to the other's skin for one breath.

She slipped a little forward, her eyes fluttering but not closing as she began to rub the palm of her hands in small, hard circles between her legs. Derek must be very engaged in his task when he didn't notice the pounding of his Beta's heart.

The knuckles on Stiles' hips turned white and with the next hard thrust he arched his back, mouth opened to release a harsh keen. Their fingers entangled and it must hurt, with the way Derek movements turned harder, sharper, cresting up at every apex of Stile's jars. It must hurt  _so good_ .

The noises got louder, both of them rattling closer to relief.

Stiles' fingers slipped out of their death lock with Derek's hands, which earned something like a guttural laughter from the wolf. The boy's response was muttered, lungs no more able to work for anything but the much needed swallowing of air to compensate the brutal efficiency with which Derek started to thrust upwards. His balance dumped and tilted. Just in time Stiles managed to grasp the pitted mattress and held his body in an awkward slanting position, only habile to take the way Derek almost pulled out completely, merely to bury his cock right back in.

It ended in a crescendo of sharp cries, drowning out any growl, any shattered breath falling from painted lips.

And then it was over.

Derek's large hands sidled up to sling around the suddenly boneless form of Stiles', and pulled him down onto his own heaving chest.

By the time his senses returned from their sex-dazed state, the spot before the door was empty and Erica barging through the woods, not able to regret her misbehavior.


End file.
